Through the darkness, willow branches,
stode a woman torn with slashes,
steady is her heart of beat,
merry, as she skips her feet,
down the stream the drums flare,
as she runs to meet them there,
dancing, are the people gay,
by the spring is where she lay,
her eyes of gold closed forever,
her eyes never to be open, not ever,
steady are the beating drums,
people whispering in silent mums,
as her love's lips meet with hers,
over her chest flung a bow of furs,
no smiles upon her faded lips,
over her head fades the eclipse,
yet, still I look unto the skys,
trying to find where the truth lies
